Run All The States!

2019 was calling for one more race, and I answered with a mid-November jaunt to Richmond, Virginia. Back home? Covered in six inches of snow and unholy wind chills. Richmond? Cold, sure, but no snow or ice in sight. Yes please, sign me up.

I landed Thursday afternoon, giving me nearly two full days to explore, stretch the legs, and balance proper pre-race fueling with trashy indulgence. (Balance is key.)

Wanderlust & Waffles

After dropping my bags at the hotel, I strolled through downtown and wandered into Capitol Square Park, because let’s be honest — I can’t resist a landmark. The capitol grounds were impressively tidy, even if the grass had that classic mid-November “meh” appearance. From there, I headed to packet pickup at the buzzing expo inside the Arthur Ashe Jr. Athletic Center (shoutout to the free shuttle from the host hotel!). I barely made it through the door before being greeted with a Sierra Nevada beer tasting — four options, including their festive Celebration ale for those looking to fast-track into Christmas mode. Now that’s how you welcome a runner.

With my one major pre-race task checked off, I moseyed through what I’m pretty sure was VCU’s campus and officially kicked off carb-loading with a stop at Sugar Shack. I posted up outside with a coffee and a French toast donut (as drool-worthy as it sounds), soaking in the cool, sunny air and watching campus life go by. Truly, between the vibes, the sugar, and the caffeine, this was a top-tier way to start race weekend.

The next day was more of the same. Weather: nice. Activity: wandering. Mood: high. After a nice stroll for breakfast, I made my way to Oregon Hill Linear Park for some James River views. Then I checked out the American Civil War Museum at Historic Tredegar and the Virginia War Memorial — both well worth a stop. I crossed a handy pedestrian bridge across the river for a brewery visit (because hydration) and eventually made my way back to the White House of the Confederacy for a short tour. The highlight? Learning Jefferson Davis’ kids were tiny chaos goblins who destroyed all their toys. Relatable.

Dinner was… waffles? Listen, Capitol Waffle Shop was practically yelling my name. I obeyed, not daring question waffle-based race prep.

Windy Streets & Warm Hearts

The morning was cool and windy, but sunshine and adrenaline go a long way. I left the gloves and hat behind, which turned out to be the right call — I probably would’ve turned into a human oven by mile 2.

While awaiting the official start, I chatted up a couple fellow runners. One complimented my throwaway zip-up and asked if I’d be ditching it. “Lady, it’s yours if you want it,” I said like I was bequeathing a family heirloom. She was thrilled. I spotted one guy in pinstripe pajama pants, which his friend teasingly called “maternity pants.” The guy just shrugged and said, “Maybe they are? Got ’em at the thrift store.” Zero shame and maximum comfort. Respect.

Finally, it was go time. We took off down Broad Street — wide and roomy, with the wind squarely in our faces, naturally. Then we took up Arthur Ashe Blvd and looped into a pleasant stretch with a cute U-turn that rewarded me with a double-pawed high five (high ten?) from a yellow lab. They weren’t totally sure what their owner was asking them to do, but they did it with love. A+ pup participation.

Around mile 5.5, we entered Bryan Park, full of pretty fall colors, crunchy leaves, and a few hills that whispered “you should’ve trained a little more.” But the hills really weren’t too bad overall. The potholes, however, were looking to end careers. I managed to dodge them all, so I will take that as a small victory.

After exiting the park, we rejoined the out-and-back portion of the course and passed runners just entering, tossing out friendly warnings about the surprise potholes waiting for them ahead. From there, we began a long southbound stretch through quiet, tree-lined neighborhoods along Pope and Fauquier Avenues — the kind of streets where you half expect a golden retriever to be waiting at every driveway.

Miles 9 and 10: Peak Joyful Chaos

And then there it was in all its glory — the certified Junk Food Aid Station. Little cups of Coke! Candy! Chocolate! Pretzels? Allegedly. I didn’t see them. Was I too slow? Too fast? Pretzel blind? We may never know.

With the conviction of someone delivering a life-saving elixir, a little girl shouted, “We have everything except water and Powerade!” and thrust a Dixie cup of gummy bears into my hand like it was a sacred offering. I accepted with the solemnity it deserved. This was no ordinary aid station — this was destiny.

Mile 10 brought the infamous Pickle Juice Stopk for those seeking a salty electrolyte boost. My first impression is that it smelled like a sandwich shop exploded. Also, the ground was quite wet here, and I have to assume someone accidentally got baptized in brine.

The course continued past happy kids high-fiving, through lively neighborhoods, past a college campus, then back downtown. I gotta say — the crowd support was incredible. People brought signs, speakers, tambourines, dogs. There was music, dancing, cowbells. Everyone was so nice. Honestly, Richmond might’ve earned that “Friendliest Marathon” title just from the energy alone.

Coming down 5th Street, the finish line showed up with the most aggressively downhill stretch I’ve ever seen — like someone just tipped the whole city forward. I was flying, probably faster than I’ve ever run, partially out of joy and partially out of fear of tripping and becoming a human tumbleweed. Quads pounding, the crossed the finish line and eagerly accepted my new medal.

The Afterglow: Beer, Blankets & Brown’s Island

We crossed the bridge to Brown’s Island for the post-race party, where the wind was extra rude. Thankfully, I had my stylish teal finisher’s blanket wrapped around me like a burrito. Sipped my celebratory beer, admired my finisher’s hat, and just tried not to get blown into the canal.

Then… back to Capitol Waffle Shop. Yes, again. I had unfinished waffle business.

Later that night, I made my way to Ardent Craft Ales, which was wildly packed. Locals were like, “What is going on?!” and then remembered the race. I braved the cold and snagged a tiny outdoor table, determined to sample a beer flight like a true post-race professional. One of the brews was a sweet potato sage saison that sounded charmingly autumnal but tasted… like a botanical lozenge. Intriguing, but also maybe not what I want in a beverage.

As I mulled over the herbal situation, I found myself unintentionally tuning into a nearby conversation — or rather, a monologue — about cilantro hummus. One girl brought it up so many times I lost count. Five? Seven? Fifteen? Either way, the phrase is now permanently etched in my brain.

Eventually, I surrendered to the chill and moved inside — partly for warmth, partly to escape the hummus discourse. I rounded out the night with a pint of “Little X IPA,” chosen purely because the name was cute. Luckily, the flavor was too. I rounded out the night with some tacos, because what else is there?

Richmond brought the charm, the cheer, and just the right amount of delight. I leave with tired legs, a happy heart, and possibly a quest to see what the cilantro hummus hype is about.

Scattered Thoughts:

• Best overheard midrace comment: “If I could cut off my left leg right now, I would.” Sir. Sir?? That seems… counterproductive.
• Most chaotic hydration: At one water stop, a volunteer gleefully yelled, “White Claw for you!” while thrusting a cup toward a startled runner. Still not sure if it was a joke or a rogue party.
• Most refreshing: Wet washcloths at mile 10. I felt insufficiently sweaty to take full advantage of them, but they did feel rejuvenating.
• Best dog crimes: A+ pup-watching throughout the course and post-race, especially the bad boys sneakily stealing tailgate snacks and pizza crusts.
• Milestone moment: This marks my 25th state – halfway done on this quest!